


Lather, Rinse, Repeat

by DustyForgotten



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Banter, Gen, Humor, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 13:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13525206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustyForgotten/pseuds/DustyForgotten
Summary: The Wasteland was a cruel, unforgiving, unhygienic place.





	Lather, Rinse, Repeat

“Come on, baby, tell me those three little words every man wants to hear…”

Erin looked up from the box she was digging in. “I found shampoo.”

“Yep, them’s it!” Butch exclaimed, setting his 10mm on a shelf to investigate another box. “If you find pomade, it’s mine.”

“You can  _ have _ it,” she replied, shoveling bottles of vault-issued shampoo (and even conditioner; God is  _ good _ ) into her satchel. “There’s too much here for the two of us—”  _ what a fantastic problem— _ “but grab everything. This’ll make a killing in trade.”

“Half is too much for you. Split it in quarters, and give me three, might last me to my thirties.”

_ So many comebacks, so little time, _ the Wanderer thought.  _ Good job, you finally learned fractions! Since you’ve got to fill your head with something, I guess hair product would make sense to you. If your hair gets any bigger, people will know you’re compensating. _ She settled on, “You believe that lather rinse repeat shit the shampoo companies made up, don’t you?”

“Since you’re hair’s so greasy and lifeless, I guess you wouldn’t get it.”

“Hey, I like the grease. Acid rain slides right off.” She stood, and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Butch. I think you’re very pretty.”

“Can it, Nosebleed,” he said, shoving her lightly. Lack of comeback meant she won this round.

The Lone Wanderer wandered the women’s bathrooms. Shame men’s was rusted shut; there had to be more supplies in there. Vault 92 was oxidized and waterlogged, but the smell of death wasn’t as permeating as it was in more recently inhabited places. It had a longer lifespan than the residents, at least. Reactor still worked, air filtration was fine, and there were enough supplies to last. They found  _ toothpaste _ , even (and had immediately put it to use). 

The Wasteland was a cruel, unforgiving, unhygienic place.

She tried each of the shower faucets, each rusted in place. Wondering if a crowbar from maintenance might be able to get her into the men’s rooms, she tugged at the last faucet. Water came pouring down on her. She blinked, turning to look at the handle, then the spigot, and finally pulling up her Pip-Boy as her clothes grew wet. “Hey, Butch?”

“See! “For best results, repeat.” It says it right there!”

“Butch.”

“What?”

“Get over here.”

He rolled his eyes, and joined her, glancing to check his gun was still on that shelf. Erin stared at her Pip-Boy. “Getting anything?”

Butch stuck his own Pip-Boy under the spray. “Yeah, wet.”

“Any ticks?”

He flicked to the radiation counter. “Nothin’.”

They looked up from their Pip-Boys, and at each other. For a moment, they just stared, sopping and dumbfounded, before Butch started hopping about the stall trying to remove his clothes. Erin would swear the water even got warm as she stood smiling into the spray and shouted, “God bless America!”


End file.
